


Take a Bow

by attachedtothebevs



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, F/M, M/M, Mavin, Mavin AU, RageHappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attachedtothebevs/pseuds/attachedtothebevs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Michael has a new neighbor, a cellist by the name of Gavin. And he turns out to be the most annoying fucking prick in the entire universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so admittedly I just wanted to write some cello-themed PWP but it seems that I'm physically incapable of not giving some sort of context, so what was supposed to be a short 1k one-shot turned into what's probably gonna be a three chapter thing. 
> 
> Enjoy and please leave a comment, I'd love to hear what you think x

Michael Jones lived alone. His little set-up was damn near perfect, a bachelor pad that catered to pretty much all of his needs. It was close to work, the complex had a pool, and the neighbors didn’t give him too much grief.

There was the incredibly nice and maternal little old lady called Mrs. Flowers below him who was pretty much deaf, so she watched her telenovelas at an ear-splitting volume, but she also went to sleep early so it wasn’t that much of a bother. Michael kinda loved her, if he was honest. She was spunky but also very much a grandmother type of person, sweet and caring and generous.

The apartment to his right was rented by some businessman looking dude who only came in once every week or two – with a different young, beautiful girl each time. They were usually relatively quiet, and even if the new girl that week turned out to be a loud one, it was nothing a song blasted on full volume with his headphones on couldn’t drown out (Michael couldn’t help but snicker at the dude’s stamina – or lack thereof).

To his left lived a guy, Adam, who was “studying law or whatever”, an attractive curly blonde with rich parents, living on his own for the first time and who probably couldn’t even remember his own address. It was his fault that the whole second floor hallway constantly _reeked_ of pot, but people got tired of complaining long ago and realized that there’s probably nothing they could do about it, seeing as the dude’s parents were “influential”. But apart from playing shitty guitar every once in a while, the guy was pretty much harmless.

The last apartment within earshot was the one above Michael’s, and it had been unoccupied for about a month since the last family who lived there moved. They were a young couple, probably in their mid-twenties, and realized that either they weren’t going to fit in the two rooms with brand new sparkling baby twins, or that the complex wasn’t exactly the ideal place to raise children. Either way, Michael got used to his living situation with relative ease, quickly learning his neighbor’s patterns and even getting friendly enough with them so that everyone followed an unspoken contract – don’t call the cops, don’t bang on the walls… basically just don’t give each other shit for doing something “disruptive”. And nobody questioned it, because this particular group of people, connected only by (what might as well have been) cardboard walls, understood that nobody’s a saint and not one of them could claim being the picture of the perfect citizen. Michael knew he wasn’t better than any one of them, so in the half year that he’d lived there, he didn’t bitch about knowing that Rosaura is pregnant with Luis Mario’s child or having to smell pot every single time he left his door or hearing 17 different women (and counting) testing their voice acting skills in what are good but ultimately transparent acts of faking an orgasm. In return Michael got tolerance for his outbursts, for sometimes getting too excited or angry at a game, he didn’t get judged for bringing the occasional person back to his apartment at 4 in the morning. Hell, there were even times that blondie would high-five him later in the hall for scoring, and Mrs. Flowers might have been halfway to deaf but fuck if she didn’t know how to bake the perfect batch of cookies.

And that’s as much as he knew about his neighbors. For the most part, he stayed out of their business and they stayed out of his.

All in all, Michael’s living situation was pretty much all he could have realistically hoped for. When he moved to Austin to work at Rooster Teeth, he had no idea how amazing it would be, so if a few mildly annoying neighbors were the price for the kind of fulfillment he found – he gladly paid it.

Michael was content. He was happy.

Right up until one infuriatingly sunny Saturday when he saw moving vans out of his window. 

And then it fucking started. 

 

x x x

 

"Hey." Ray greeted Michael on Monday morning and he, in turn, grumbled something that was nowhere near coherent words. 

"Rough night?"

Michael was resting his head on his desk, facing Ray. "I got a new neighbor."

"Oh?"

"He likes to play cello or some shit. All fucking night." Michael hadn't actually met him, or indeed confirmed that it was a he - but he saw the movers being bossed around by someone with sandy brown short hair out of his window. 

"Ouch." Ray looked at his friend sympathetically. "Did you ask him to keep it down?"

"I didn't want to be _that_ guy, but if he does it again today I fucking will."

And he did, of course. He played in bursts of about twenty minutes all through late evening, after sunset and well into the night. Michael didn’t want it to come to this but he decided to go meet his lovely new neighbor. At half past two in the fucking morning. Barefoot, in his pajamas.

He knocked on the door and heard the tune cut off, then the sound of feet making their way to the door and—

“Hello?”

Okay, well, it didn’t help matters that the dude was attractive as hell.

Or that he was wearing nothing but boxers and a robe carelessly thrown over his shoulders.

Michael was temporarily sidetracked by his accent, too. Even if he had just said the one word.

“…Can, uh… can I help you?”

Michael blinked, mentally shaking his head to snap out of it. “Yeah, uh. I’m Michael.” He extended his hand, noticing the color of his neighbor’s skin and how it contrasted with his paleness.

“Nice to meet you, Michael.” He said with a sort of easy charm that almost made him forget why he was there in the first place. “I’m Gavin.”

He realized quickly that he didn’t at all clarify who he was or why he was there, so he tripped over his words, trying to explain. “I’m from apartment 22.”

“22, huh? That would mean you’re…” He thought for a second, and then looked down. “Underneath me?”

Michael had inadvertently followed his gaze, accidentally giving Gavin a full body scan. He couldn’t help but notice his surprisingly hairy front, starting on his chest and slowly making its way down and… well. Michael snapped his eyes back to his face where a slight mischievous smirk was playing on his lips, then replayed the last five seconds in his mind.

Oh.

“Yeah, uh… do you mind keeping it down?” Michael was being _polite_. He came up with every intention to be nasty and mean and demand silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Consciously or not, he wasn’t quite sure, but something clicked when he saw the look on Gavin’s face.

Michael didn’t delude himself, he didn’t think there was some “instant connection” or any of that kind of bullshit, but _something_ was definitely there. Although, he wasn’t completely sure if his new neighbor was actually flirting, or if he was just one of those people. It was subtle enough where it could pass as an idle character trait, the slight double entendre and glint in his eye might as well have been just how the guy was with everyone. Or maybe, just _maybe_ , he was testing the waters.

“Oh, can you hear me play?”

Michael nodded, going as far as giving him a smile.

“My bad, I was told this flat was soundproof.”

“Well I don’t know who told you that, but I can assure you I can hear your every step. This building is made out of cardboard.”

Gavin raised his eyebrows, now obviously considering him.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For the rest of the night, it was silent. Michael only heard him run the water for 15 minutes and then nothing. And now he couldn’t fall asleep for a whole other different reason.

x x x

What Michael didn’t anticipate was that the attractive british dude was quite possibly the most annoying being in the entire goddamn universe.

One day. One day the silence lasted. He wouldn’t have minded if the guy played his cello during the day or whatever, but it was like he specifically waited for Michael to come home to start playing. Michael’s initial plan to be polite after meeting him for the first time quickly dissolved.

On day two he cranked up the volume on his TV really loud.

On day four he took his broom, stood on his couch and banged on the ceiling.

By day seven he just started yelling.

“ _CUT IT THE FUCK OUT YOU MORON!_ ”

At that, the sounds of the cello would play even louder, faster. More annoying.

Michael groaned and he could swear he heard a laugh from the apartment above him.

x x x

“I thought you said he was… cute.” Ray commented after about the fifteen hundredth time Michael complained about Gavin.

“That was before I knew he was such a fucking pain in the ass. I swear he does it just to piss me off.”

“Can you like, complain or something?”

“I tried!” Michael was aggravated. He told Ray about how he complained about it to the landlady but as it turned out, she was completely smitten (and to be fair, though Michael would never admit it, he could see why). He even tried to get other people in the building to complain, thinking he’d have strength in numbers, but the jackass made it a point to come play for Mrs. Flowers (and, of-fucking-course, she absolutely loves it, and doesn’t hear it at all when he plays at night), and Adam didn’t care either way. He never talked to any of the other tenants in the complex, but seeing as he continued to make his life a living hell, they probably either didn’t hear it good enough to warrant a complaint, or they didn’t have a problem with it either.

So Michael was left alone in the fight against Gavin and his goddamn fucking cello. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes you get into situations where you just stop and think “What the fuck am I even doing?”

Michael couldn’t even comprehend why he found himself in a car driving to downtown Austin. With Adam and Mrs. Flowers. To go see Gavin play.

What the _fuck_.

He had been very, very hungover that morning when Adam came knocking at his door waving three tickets Gavin had given to Mrs. Flowers. And since the old lady lived alone and didn’t really have anyone to take, she offered Adam one. He felt bad for her, and seeing as Mrs. Flowers frequently baked cookies and pies and stuff that inevitably ended up being his snacks for when he got the munchies, he figured he owed her a night out.

Except he didn’t have a car (or a license), and that’s where Michael came in. In his hungover state he agreed to go, just trying to get Adam out so he could sleep it off, and that’s how Michael ended up sitting next to him and Mrs. Flowers in some old theatre, right in the middle of row two, with his back to about three hundred other people who came to see Gavin, who was _apparently_ a well known musician.

If it had just been Adam, Michael would have cancelled the second he was clear-minded enough to realize what a fucking stupid idea it was, but he had to admit, he liked Mrs. Flowers too much to back out of it. She had the foresight to put on a nice, appropriate pantsuit, unlike those two, who were wildly underdressed for the event.

Good thing neither Michael nor Adam gave a shit about it anyway.

But to be fair, when he looked around the audience, he did notice that there were a lot of different people, not just classical music snobs like he had expected. There were a fair number of girls and guys his age and younger, as well as middle-aged people and seniors. He didn’t really know what to make of that, but it was probably a good sign.

When the lights dimmed and then turned off altogether, everyone in the venue started clapping, eagerly waiting for Gavin, and all Michael could think about was how all of these people paid money to come see him play and a fair share probably liked him a lot, when in reality he was just an inconsiderate douchebag with a really hairy chest.

They did the cliché thing where Gavin came out and sat in the middle of the stage while the lights were down, and started playing as a spotlight slowly started shining on him. Michael realized he was close enough to where he could see his face, and Gavin had his eyes closed and his head down as he played the first few notes.

He was wearing what was clearly a very expensive, well-tailored black suit, but what caught Michael’s eye was the emerald green handkerchief he had tucked neatly into his pocket.

As the first composition went on, more (slightly dimmer) spotlights shone on two women sat on either side of him, accompanying Gavin.

From what limited knowledge Michael had about music, the first three instrumentals were classical compositions, but as the set progressed, he recognized some melodies as covers of pop songs, some even akin to rock or metal, and so the varied audience made sense.

He had to admit, the guy was good at what he did. The music was way more enjoyable when it wasn’t being shoved down his throat every night through the walls.

Gavin didn’t say a word throughout the whole thing, and what struck Michael was that a lot of the time he seemed… shy, almost. Humble. He’d only look at the crowd every so often, giving a soft smile as he played, but mostly he either had his eyes closed with a look of concentration on his face, or looked down at his own fingers, or just up into space, never really making eye-contact with anyone from the audience. In short, he was the complete opposite of what Michael’s impression of him was.

Somewhere around halfway through the concert he forced himself to forget what a shitty neighbor Gavin was and just concentrated on enjoying the show. There was absolutely no use in just sitting there with his Jersey face on and thinking about all the times he wanted to come up and strangle him with the strings of his own cello. And once he let go of that (temporarily, he reminded himself), it was actually a pretty good experience.

Michael noticed how passionate Gavin looked while he was playing, how he’d swing slightly to the melody, but mostly what caught his attention were his fingers. How they’d dance over the strings, sometimes slow and deliberate, others frantic, fast, expertly making the instrument come to life under his fingertips. Michael also took note of how he straddled the cello and how he held it or put his hands gently on it between songs, like it wasn’t just a piece of wood with strings, more like it was a person who had to be handled in a specific, gentle way.

It was mesmerizing.

So when Gavin played the last, long, trembling note and stood up, bowing his head with a big smile on his face, Michael forgot that he had been furious at him since they met and stood up along with the audience, clapping.

He didn’t have a microphone but he was clearly saying “Thank you” to the crowd, bowing a couple of times and giving kisses to the other musicians that accompanied him on stage.

Michael wasn’t exactly pleased with the hit his ego took when Gavin caught sight of him and his eyebrows shot up, immediately giving him a shit-eating grin. He even gave him a little wave, the smug fucker.

When Michael, Adam and Mrs. Flowers stood in the lobby, waiting for the initial crowd to leave so they could walk out without being shoved around, he noticed that a group of people were standing off to the side, next to some door. He quickly realized that they were probably waiting for Gavin, so Michael and his unlikely companions for the evening hauled ass out of the theatre, just to avoid having an awkward conversation (even though Mrs. Flowers was not pleased with his haste).

They made their way back to the complex, with Mrs. Flowers profusely thanking the two boys for being her dates, and smiled as she went to her apartment with promises of delicious baked goods for breakfast next morning.

Michael, on the other hand, went up to his apartment, turned on his X-box and loaded up the first game he got his hands on with the full intention of sulking for the rest of the night.

God fucking damn that stupid, handsome british fuck.

What he didn’t expect was that about fifteen minutes later he heard the door slamming above him once, then about five minutes later a second time. He turned the volume of the game down and listened to the muffled footsteps, and realized, way too late, that they walked right up to his door and—

_Knock knock._

Oh fuck.

Michael opened the door and of course, there Gavin was, leaning on the doorframe, in dark jeans and a white shirt, his collar open and his sleeves rolled up.

“Hey.”

“What do you want?” Michael was determined to save face.

“I stopped by Mrs. Flowers’ to ask if she liked the concert and she told me you and that other guy took her. That’s really sweet of you.”

 Michael just let out a vague sound of discontent in response.

“Anyway, I’ve got a cab waiting downstairs. Do you want to go to the little afterparty thing?” Michael furrowed his brows at the offer. “There’ll be free bevs.”

“Free what?”

“Booze.”

“Why are you asking me?”

Gavin gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, I figured I owe you one for being a dickhead with my late-night rehearsals. Thought I’d take you out. If you want, that is.”

One part of Michael’s brain was screaming “NO!” at him, the other was thinking “What? Like on a date? What?”

Eventually, after looking at Gavin’s crooked, timid smirk for what felt like three hours, he shrugged. “I could go for some free “bevs”, I guess.”

The smile he gave Michael was so goofy and cute he couldn’t help but return it. “Alright, I’ll be waiting downstairs in the cab, you go get dressed.” Gavin turned around on his heels and disappeared into the stairwell, leaving Michael standing there in his doorway contemplating what the fuck he had just done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are enjoying it so far. Leave a comment and tell me what you think xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and I forgot to mention:
> 
> If you sometimes don't mind music that's a bit on the heavier side, please please please I'm begging you, check out Apocalyptica. It's three classically trained cellists playing metal. They used to do like Metallica and classical music covers. I've been watching their live shows/videos for inspiration for this fic because watching/hearing them play does strange things to my body. And I don't even like metal.  
> I've seen them live four times because HOLY HELL. That's four panties I'll never see again because they fucking disintegrated on sight.   
> So yeah, please check them out for the love of all that is holy. 
> 
> Alright sorry, I digressed. Let's press on, shall we?

Michael felt very weird when they arrived at the bar where the afterparty was held and everyone started clapping when they saw Gavin enter with him in tow. Naturally there was instantly a crowd of people gathered around him, so Michael picked a moment when Gavin was engaged in conversation with some glamorous-looking woman and made a beeline to the bar.

As promised, the drinks were free, so he downed a jack and coke and ordered another one, sitting by himself at the bar, hoping to get drunk faster because maybe then he wouldn’t feel like he stuck out like a sore thumb.

But as soon as Gavin said his hello’s and thank you’s, he joined Michael at the bar and started drinking, too.

It was… nice. They had a few somewhat awkward silences at the beginning of the night, but the talkative bartender would chime in once in a while so it wasn’t so bad. They talked about nonsense, bonded over video games, Michael finding out that Gavin loved a bit of Halo (even though he was crap at it, by his own admission),  and Michael was thrilled when Gavin made fun of some of the snobby, douchey attendees because it meant that he could, too.

Towards the end of the night, at around jack and coke number five hundred, Gavin confessed that the day after they met he flirted with the landlady a bit and found out Michael’s full name, and googled him. Michael was slightly taken aback but was admittedly thankful for the honesty when Gavin said he found his Rage Quits hilarious and that was pretty much the reason why he was being such a dick. Because he thought it was “amusing when he freaked out and yelled.”

 “You’re such an asshole! That’s why you were egging me on? I couldn’t sleep for _days!_ There’s tons of videos, you could have just watched them.”

“I wanted to catch the live show.” Gavin drunkenly giggled and casually placed his palm on his knee. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Gavin dissolved into laughter, completely breaking Michael’s faux anger at him and making him cackle, too.

Maybe he was a bit too drunk. He couldn’t decide if Gavin was flirting or not, and although usually he was pretty good at being straightforward about things like these, this time Michael was too chickenshit to ask.

But they were sitting pretty close together, facing and leaning into each other so they could hear better because the bar was pretty noisy, and Michael noticed Gavin kept finding reasons to touch him (innocently, of course). Like keeping his leg pressed up against Michael’s when they moved in a way to “accidentally” make them touch, or when he went to the bathroom and came back, Gavin would lightly touch his shoulders and press up against his back as he passed, just for a second. Physical contact was completely unnecessary, and yet there they were, with Gavin’s hand on Michael’s knee, laughing, leaning in.

But he wasn’t the only one doing it. When Gavin leaned in to try and reach the napkins, Michael caught his scent and… well, he sniffed him. And Gavin noticed. There wasn’t any way around it, so Michael just came clean.

“You smell great.” He said simply, trying to hide how flustered he was at getting caught. Gavin smiled and pointed to his head. “It’s the hair.”

At the end of the night, neither one of them made a really obvious move.

Until the time came to go home and Gavin invited him up to “help him get the Mile High Club achievement in Call of Duty.”

And Michael realized quite quickly that Gavin had no intention of playing video games, and, in fact, that there was no X-Box to speak of. When he commented on that, Gavin just mumbled something about accidentally leaving it in storage (what storage?) as he handed Michael a glass of wine.

Against his better judgment he took it, sipping on it as he walked around the apartment, looking at the bookshelves carelessly littered with sheet music, DVD’s and games (well, at least he does actually have an X-box somewhere).

Behind him, Gavin quietly sat on the edge of the sofa and started playing the Super Mario theme on the cello, effectively making Michael choke on his wine from laughing too suddenly.

Gavin just smiled and set it aside, but still holding his legs open, and when Michael turned around when his coughing fit had subsided, his crotch was the first thing he looked at. Michael coughed again and turned back to the shelves.

“See anything you like?”

Again with the multiple meanings. Did he mean on the shelves, or…?

In his head that didn’t justify a response, so Michael stayed silent as he scanned the pretty vast collection of DVD’s he had. He heard him shuffle around until music started playing, not very loud but loud enough that he couldn’t hear the footsteps when eventually Gavin got impatient and quietly snuck up behind him, putting his hands on Michael’s shoulders.

“Do you want to watch anything?” he asked, voice low, right in his ear. Michael suppressed a shiver.

“I don’t know.”

Gavin lightly grazed down the length of his right hand and took the glass of wine from him, setting it on the shelf in front of him. With every breath he took, his chest would touch Michael’s back, and it made him mildly delusional.

“Well what do you want to do, then?” Gavin asked, and Michael’s brain short-circuited when he felt his hand gently placed on his hip, tracing little circles through the cloth.

Yep. He was flirting. Do doubt about it.

Except now that Michael was certain, he didn’t know what he was going to do with that information.

On the one hand, Gavin looked like he knew a few tricks that would make for a good time.

On the other, it would be a very poor show of willpower. Michael didn’t really want to be _that_ wrapped around his talented little finger.

Decisions, decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember that I love hearing what you guys think (you don't have to have an account to comment!) x


	4. Chapter 4

Michael turned around so that they were face to face, and he hadn’t realized how close Gavin was. They were sharing breath, Michael was looking up at him and he noticed how Gavin’s eyes darted to his lips.

“Mmm?” he purred, the actual question clear in his stance, in the way he still held onto Michael’s hip, in his eyes that seemed a little bit darker.

Michael couldn’t resist it; he brought his hand up to open Gavin’s collar even more than it had been, lightly pressing his face (and lips) against his neck, and just inhaled.

Gavin’s scent was pleasantly musky; subtle, yet dizzying. He smelled like… like an old theatre, like hot showers in the winter, like too much sugar in your tea. Michael felt him inhaling against his skin before he heard it, felt the hand on his hip tighten.

He felt his own pulse quicken, loudly beating in his ears. It was getting warm, too warm. He wanted to take his clothes off and rip off Gavin’s so that they could be touching, skin-on-skin.

Michael wanted to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

He wanted to test if Gavin was as strong as the grip on his side, now travelling up to his chest, his shoulder, his throat, his hair, tightening, sending little shocks from his scalp all the way down to his toes.

“Actually,” Michael matched his tone, keeping it just loud enough to hear over the music that he now realized was probably specifically composed to fuck to. “I’m really tired, I think I’m gonna go home.”

And before he could change his mind, he turned around and walked away, stopping at the door to look back one last time. “Goodnight, Gavin. We should do this again sometime.” Michael smirked at his expression, looking like he’d tasted something foul.

“Night, Michael.” He mumbled as the door closed.

x x x

It wasn’t easy; Michael had to admit that to himself. He hadn’t been laid in a while, and that little scene the other week left him aching a bit. So that Friday, Michael commandeered Geoff as his wingman and went out to a bar, looking for a girl. He didn’t feel like picking up men that particular week. He yearned for soft flesh and nice curves, maybe to get his mind off a certain someone who was all weird angles and lean muscles.

His search for a one-night partner wasn’t classy or romantic by any stretch of the imagination, but then again he never claimed to be either of those things. No, Michael wasn’t one to look for love or any of that kind of crap. Well, “never say never”, but for the time being he was content with his status as a single guy, not tied down and able to just go out with a friend and have a good time.

So that was exactly what he did. Admittedly, the first few girls were a miss, but not long into the night Michael found a beautiful, round-faced girl with glorious curves and a wicked smile. They quickly read through the social script, danced, kissed, and Michael invited her over. Everything was perfect. As they left, Michael gave Geoff a thumbs up and mouthed a “thank you” for chatting her up, introducing them, and then very smoothly melting away into the crowd. Geoff was an excellent wingman.

They got back to Michael’s apartment and he made sure not to slam the door or stomp around too much, and the girl caught on that he was being quiet, so she didn’t make too much noise either.

It was… alright. Nothing amazing or mind-blowing, just regular old sex. Good enough to clean the pipes, so to speak, but Michael would lie if he said he’d remember it in five years. The girl was cute, wasn’t selfish or needy, and sometimes that’s as much as he could possibly expect from an encounter of this kind.

At the end of the day, he god laid, and that’s what mattered. He’d desperately needed it; Michael had been feeling antsy all week. He still felt a bit tense, but definitely less so than before.

And thank god it was quiet, so Michael and the girl fell asleep easily.

The morning, however, was not that pleasant. They were woken up by very loud knocking on the door, and, surprise fucking surprise, it was Gavin. Michael was too out of it in his sleepy state to pull on more than a pair of boxers, and when he opened the door, it was like someone poured boiling and ice-cold water on him at once.

Gavin was holding a plate of pancakes. “Hey, neighbor!”

“What do you want, Gavin?” Michael whispered furiously, hoping the girl wouldn’t hear and think to come over.

“Oh, I wanted some pancakes for breakfast but I goofed up and made way too many, no way I could eat all of these by myself, so thought I’d offer you a nice wholesome breakfast.” He said, way too loudly, and _of course_ the girl poked her head out of the bedroom. “Oh, dear me, I hadn’t realized you have company!” Gavin looked way too fucking happy as he waved at her with a big, fake smile on his face.

“Good morning.” She said timidly, holding Michael’s shirt tightly around herself.

“Michael! You’re being terribly rude.” Somehow, Gavin sounded even _more_ British than usual. “Introduce us, why don’t you?”

Oh no.

No no no.

Very quickly Michael realized he couldn’t remember the girl’s name. Cindy? Sarah? He felt the chill of shame ripple down his spine as he gave Gavin a glare so menacing it almost broke his charade.

The room was silent for a couple of seconds, until the girl took a step forward. “I’m Samantha, nice to meet you.”

“Gavin. Pleasure’s all mine.” He fucking _winked_ at her. “Well, I’ll leave you and your lady friend to it. Hope you enjoy the pancakes.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Michael said through gritted teeth and all but slammed the door on his big fucking nose.

As if mornings after weren’t bad enough, now they had to sit down and eat those goddamn pancakes.

Luckily, Samantha had enough common decency to stick around for only a little bit, and Michael, still feeling guilty as all hell, offered to call her a cab and walk her downstairs. He wasn’t going to be an asshole to such a nice girl.

Downstairs, Michael opened the car door for her and told her he had fun, and that he’d see her around (which was a filthy lie, they didn’t even exchange numbers or anything, but what the hell else was he meant to say?). He turned around to walk back to his apartment and realized Gavin was leaning against the wall next to the main door of the complex, smoking a cigarette.

Michael wanted to punch him, but with every step he took forwards, he realized that a reaction like that was what the little fucking parasite _wanted_. He was doing all of it on purpose, just to egg him on.

So when Gavin pulled out his pack of cigarettes, extended his hand and said “Care for a fag?” with a smug smirk, Michael just smiled right back at him.

“No, thanks, I’m not into that.”

He saw something like panic flash across Gavin’s face for half a second and _that_ was Michael’s revenge.

That night, however, when Michael stayed up late to play video games, he heard weird sounds from upstairs.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that it was the unmistakable sound of a bed creaking and it’s headboard hitting the wall over and over and over again at a very fast pace, and when Michael heard not one but two male voices grunting loudly and getting steadily more frantic, well… Michael knew exactly what was going on.

“ _BE MORE OBVIOUS!_ ” he yelled at the ceiling.

Gavin just laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I don't have the next chapter written up yet, I usually do before I post one, but I thought I'd just go ahead and post this one. So it might take me a couple days to update again, it might not, I don't know. ~
> 
> My favorite thing is when you guys comment so please! x


	5. Chapter 5

Michael slept in on Sunday morning. He could only fall asleep at around sunrise because apparently Gavin _does_ know a few tricks, and he wanted Michael to know what he was missing out on. 

Furious, self-loathing boners were had and willed away with the help of cold showers. He had too much pride to jack off to his neighbor, evidently, fucking someone into another dimension. 

Michael had breakfast, made himself a delicious latte and then didn't know what to do with himself for the rest of the day. He looked out the window and saw that it was a beautiful day outside, not a cloud in the sky. He opened the balcony door and a wave of heat washed over him. Well, that's decided then. He changed to his trunks, took a towel and made his way down to the pool. 

It seemed that a lot of people had the same idea. It was pretty packed, but he did notice that there was one more folded poolside chair next to the door, so he picked it up and looked for a place to set it. As he scanned the area, he noticed that to his left, Gavin was lounging around, soaking up the sun.

Michael's muscles tensed. He had to admit to himself, Gavin looked beautiful. Hammering someone into the bed all night really agreed with him. He looked relaxed and lazy, like a cat bathing in the hot Texas sun. His eyes were closed and he was still, apart from his chest slowly rising and falling as he breathed.

He sighed. It seemed that recently, wherever he turned, Gavin was there. It was no use trying to avoid him, even if Michael just took a quick dip in the pool and left, he’d probably notice him. And if he set his chair down on the opposite side of the pool, well, he’d be a pussy then.

He all but threw the chair next to him, metal loudly clattering against tile. It startled Gavin. Good.

“Oh, hello, Michael.” Gavin smiled up at him as he set up.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

Gavin huffed a little laugh. “Not my boyfriend. He's still asleep.”

“Can you look after my stuff?” Michael just breezed over his answer because he felt that Gavin was about to make some witty, highly inappropriate joke.

Gavin agreed and without much further ado, Michael went into the pool. He swam around, but it was still early enough in the morning that the water hadn’t heated up too much yet, so he came back after about fifteen minutes. Immediately Gavin launched into an excited, giggly little chat about some hilarious viral video he saw the other day. He didn’t need much encouragement aside from a few laughs from Michael to keep the conversation going. Gavin even pulled out his phone and showed him Will Sasso’s Vine account, bursting with mirth as he scrolled through the 6 second videos. Michael found himself strangely comfortable in his company, forgetting what an asshole he can be for the umpteenth time.

At some point Michael noticed that a very tall guy, head shaved and about 99% muscle walked in. His dark skin contrasted with the white wife-beater he was wearing. He stood at the edge of the pool and looked around (somewhat menacingly) at the people, holding a yellow sticky note in his hand. 

Gavin followed Michael's gaze and immediately perked up. "Oh, Eric!"

To Michael's surprise, the dude turned around and his expression changed completely, now smiling in earnest. "Hey, sleepyhead." Gavin's voice was saccharine, but not altogether dishonest. Michael felt a pang of jealousy. 

"Gavin." The guy said simply a he walked over and leaned down to kiss him sweetly on the lips. 

"Sit down, love." Gavin pulled him down on his lawn chair and placed his hand firmly on the guy’s shoulder. Michael noticed he tended to do that. He knew nothing about body language, but if that wasn't a dominant gesture then he didn't know what was. "This is Eric. Eric, this is Michael." Gavin didn't even look at Michael, he just smiled fondly at the guy. "Are you on your way?"

Eric nodded. 

"Could you be a dear and bring us drinks? It's a great day for some swimmy bevs."

"Absolutely."

"Thank you." Gavin kissed him on the cheek. "There's a six-pack of beer in the fridge."

Eric just stood up and went back into the complex. Michael stared at Gavin incredulously. "Must be nice to afford such a dedicated _personal assistant_."

Gavin shot him a dirty look. "Can't pay for that kind of help with money."

Eric came back with a six-pack and put it down in-between their poolside chairs. He handed Gavin a ring of keys and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it was, it made Gavin look smug as hell. 

"I'll see you." Eric said as he straightened up. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Michael." 

Michael didn’t say anything, he just nodded. 

Eric leaned down one last time and gave Gavin a lingering kiss. He, in turn, before Eric pulled away, bit him on the lip and held it between his teeth for a couple of seconds. It couldn't be any clearer as to who was in charge. 

" _I'll_ call _you_." Gavin said, and as Eric walked away, he busied himself with opening two bottles of beer. He handed one to Michael and casually carried on chattering about nothing in particular as if he didn’t just oh-so-obviously display downright _ownership_ of someone who could probably, if he wanted, kill or at the very least seriously injure him with one hand. Gavin reduced a frankly scary-looking man who was twice his size to a puppy wagging his tail, eager to please his owner.

A very discouraging thought popped up in Michael’s head.

_I don’t stand a chance._

He quickly subdued it.

On Monday morning Michael recounted all of it to Ray who just sat there silently, listening to him bitch about Gavin for about fifteen minutes. It was a small office, so of course Geoff heard all of it, as he did all of the other dozens of conversations they’ve had about him.

“Oh my god!” Geoff turned around in his chair. “Just ask him out or something.”

“Why the hell would I do that?!” Michael’s voice went up about three octaves.

“Dude, hate to break it to you, but you have a crush on that guy. All you’ve talked about for weeks now is Gavin this, Gavin that.”

Michael was outraged; he turned to Ray, trusting he’d have his back on this.

“I actually agree with Geoff. Sorry, man, but you have it bad.”

“You’re life a pair of fucking 8-year-olds. Soon he’ll be pushing you off a swing and you’ll be pulling on his hair. It’s ridiculous. Just fuck and get over it.”

“But—“

“Michael. You don’t get as worked up in Rage Quit as you do talking about him. Just make a move, or… something! I don’t know. Join in on his harem or some shit. I’m fucking tired of your moaning.” Geoff said with finality and turned back to his computer, leaving Michael speechless.

He thought about it.

And then thought about it some more.

Basically what it boiled down to was that it was his pride vs. his crumbling self-control, and now Ray and Geoff too, apparently.

Not being seen as weak was a big thing for Michael.

So if anything happened, it was going to have to be on _his_ terms.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got so many wonderful amazing comments last chapter, you guys are the best. Seriously though, it makes me so happy, even if it's just like a few words. x


	6. Chapter 6

Michael wanted Gavin. That was one fact he struggled to accept. He didn’t quite understand what drew him to Gavin. He was annoying, the crème de la crème of douchebags. He was cocky and obnoxious, and just downright insufferable. 

And yet there were these moments where he'd be alright. Michael would even go far enough to say that he was fun to hang out with, whenever he wasn't busy with trying to make him miserable. He had a stupid but ticklingly adorable squeak of a laugh, from what Michael saw on his shelf he had a good taste in movies and games (but he also laughed at guys slipping on ice and Will Sasso spitting out lemons). And when he played, he looked like a whole other person. Passionate, gentle and humble, and it made Michael wonder if any of that ever translated to his everyday life. Gavin was a mess of contradictions. He was what you'd get if you mixed the sophistication of a virtuoso, the crudeness of a 14 year old boy and the dedication of a sex addict. Add a British accent, a once-broken nose and a surprising amount of hair and you've got Gavin Free. Cellist, parasite and power-hungry sex fiend extraordinaire. And Michael had to admit... He wanted him. 

He didn't know exactly how he wanted Gavin. Did he just want the dessert, or the full course?

He had no idea, but Michael knew that he definitely wanted to have him. He wanted to have Gavin, maybe for just one time, maybe for longer. But it wasn't going to be the other way around. Michael wasn't going to give in and surrender, he wasn't going to be like Eric. He refused to be Gavin's pet. 

It would be difficult. Gavin was clearly savvy in power-play. He was charming, manipulative and persuasive, but Michael was strong. He'd already walked away once, and he'd do it again just to show Gavin that he couldn't break him, even if every muscle in his body ached with want. 

And boy did he ache. In hindsight, Michael's little rendezvous did nothing to relieve the tension he'd been feeling since day one. At first he thought it might have been better to take a guy home, but eventually Michael stopped kidding himself. Whatever was controlling him, be it his dick, his brain, or (Jesus rollerblading Christ please let it not be) his heart... It didn't seek some random person. No, it wanted Gavin. 

So once the decision was made, Michael stuck to it.  

He spent many days trying to think of some way to approach him without it being painfully apparent as to what his agenda was. Thankfully, Gavin had no such qualms and one Thursday he casually knocked on Michael's door with an offer to go to a charity event some rich guy was holding. 

"It's gonna be dead boring and he has a thing for me so I need you to be my date."

Even after everything, Michael was still slightly floored with how forward he was being. 

"Why don't you take a girl? I'm sure you have them falling at your feet."

Gavin made an absolutely comical face of disgust. "I don't want the fuss."

“How about Eric, then?” Michael could see that he was getting flustered. Perfect.

“Eric and I have a different kind of arrangement.”

"So what, rich guys aren't your type or...?"

"He's like twice my age! I don't need a damn sugar daddy. Are you gonna do this for me or not?"

Michael pretended to think about it. It wouldn't give him any leverage if he seemed too eager. “What’s in it for me?”

“The honor of being the date of a VIP.”  Gavin winked.

“If you think that sort of shit works on me then you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.”

“Come ooooon, Michael. Please?”

It’s working.

“I don’t know. What would I have to do?”

“Just stand there and be pretty. Get hammered, if you want.” Gavin have him a crooked, mischievous smirk.

God fucking damn it, it wasn’t working. _Again_ with the innuendos.

Michael let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. This is not a date. You owe me for this.”

“Deal. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.” Gavin turned around and walked down the hallway. “Hope you have a suit!” He said over his shoulder as he took a corner and didn’t see the look of sheer terror in Michael’s eyes.

He has to wear a suit? Great. Just fucking peachy.

x x x

The next day when Michael opened his door, all suited up and ready to go, his brain had what could only be described as a critical error.

Gavin was wearing a black three-piece suit, with a black shirt, black silk tie and black leather shoes. The only color in his outfit was the same emerald green handkerchief neatly folded in his pocket. “You look lovely, Michael.”

“Oh shut up. Let’s get this over with.” He said as he locked his door and pushed past him. Already the night was off to a bad start. Here he was in his plain off-the-shelf suit and Gavin looked like he just casually strolled off some overpriced fashion magazine. He half expected him to pull out a pretentious pocket-watch to look at the time. Usually when Michael saw him he was wearing one of about three t-shirts that he seemed to own and a pair of (way too) skinny jeans or shorts, but apparently for formal occasions he went all out.

When they went outside and Michael saw a car with tinted windows and a driver standing patiently next to it, he realized this wasn’t just some regular event. “Seriously?” he pointed at it.

“Told you we’d be getting the VIP treatment.”

They got in the car and drove in silence, and once they stopped in front of the venue, Michael nearly had a heart-attack. There were about a dozen people with cameras out there, flashes going off as they took pictures of attendees entering the building.

“What the _fuck_ , dude?”

“What is it, Michael?”

“You didn’t tell me there was gonna be paparazzi and shit.”

“Are you camera shy?” Gavin giggled.

“No, just a little fucking blindsided.”

“Come on. Back straight, big smile. You’ll be fine.”

The chauffeur opened the door and Gavin graciously climbed out, straightening out his suit as he did, and Michael was nearly blinded with all of the flashes now going off in their direction.

_What the_ hell _have I gotten myself into?_

He took his glasses off, tucked them into his pocket, took a deep breath, plastered on a smile and got out of the car after Gavin.

When they made their way towards the doors, Michael a half-step behind him, Gavin looked back, stopped for a second, and took Michael’s hand into his, then carried on walking with a huge smile on his face, waving at a few photogs.

_Don’t make a scene. Don’t._

“Mr. Free! Who’s your date?” one of them yelled.

“Michael Jones.” Gavin replied without hesitation.

Michael leaned into Gavin’s ear, still with a smile on his face, still holding his hand. “I’m going to _murder_ you.” He whispered.

“Looking forward to it.” He responded with that stupid wicked grin of his as they made their way into the venue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to let me know what you think! <3 x


	7. Chapter 7

“You fucking _asshole!_ ” Michael furiously whispered through gritted teeth as they walked amongst the crowd of fancily-dressed people, still hand in hand.

“Hush, Michael, you can yell at me later.” Gavin replied, barely containing his giggles.

Important People walked up to Gavin and shook his hand, making light conversation, and of course he introduced Michael to all of them. He felt like what he imagined trophy wives of rich, old snobs felt like. Except he was led by a handsome young musician, and he didn’t know why, but that was somehow much more embarrassing.

They walked through the grand old building, the sound of heels against the marble floor and polite chatter all around them. A waitress walked by them and Gavin took two glasses of wine off her tray, and handed one to Michael.

“Cheers.” He held his up and sipped it.

Michael just gave him a death glare and downed the whole thing in one gulp. He then took Gavin’s, and drunk that too.

“Aren’t you thirsty.”

“I’m not, I just figured I’ll feel better about being arrested for stabbing you if I’m drunk.”

Gavin just laughed it off.

For the next maybe two hours Gavin kept being pulled away by women who were wearing jewelry worth more than Michael’s apartment and men who might as well have been wearing fucking monocles. He also noticed Gavin disappear into some secluded little door for about twenty minutes at some point.

All of it made Michael extremely uncomfortable so he thanked the heavens for the open bar and just chugged drinks left and right. He even contemplated just going home while Gavin was off on one of his runs, but he didn’t want to admit defeat.

“Aw, you still sulking, Michael?” Gavin reappeared.

He glared at him.

“Okay, look, I have to perform in a little bit. Let’s go to the back, I’ll make you a nice drink, alright?”

“There’s a perfectly good bar right here.”

“Just come on.” Gavin tugged at his sleeve. Michael rolled his eyes and followed him out the same door he saw Gavin go through earlier.

They walked through a hallway and Gavin opened a door to what looked like a dressing room. His cello was placed neatly by some make-up mirrors. He closed the door behind them, and they were alone, away from the constant noise of fake people being fake to each other.

“Look, I’m sorry, that was a dick move. I should have told you this was a big deal.”

“Yeah, you’re right, you should have.”

They just stared at each other. Michael wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy. A simple “I’m sorry” wasn’t going to cut it. Gavin completely blindsided him.

“I’ll make you a fancy cocktail, alright?”

When he didn’t get any sort of reaction from Michael, he turned around and made his way to a table littered with snacks and all manner of alcohol.

Someone knocked on the door and peeked their head in. “You’re up in fifteen minutes, Mr. Free.”

“Alright, thanks.” Gavin didn’t even look back, he just continued to concoct some sort of drink that’s probably going to be disgusting.

At this point in the night, Michael was pretty drunk. He could walk and talk no problem, but his mind was a damn mess. In the tornado of all kinds of horrible thoughts, one quickly took over and before Michael even knew it himself, he walked up to Gavin, still busy with that cocktail, and pushed himself up against his back. Michael could feel him freeze on the spot.

“What’s up, Michael?” he asked quietly, as if he sensed that the situation was very delicate.

“I hate you so fucking much.” Michael’s voice was low and menacing, just above a whisper. For once he firmly placed _his_ hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “You have no idea. Since the day you moved into the complex, I fucking hated your guts.”

Gavin was silent, and Michael couldn’t see his face. But he saw that he’d now put down the glass and bottle, and both his hands were leaning against the table.

Michael’s left hand slowly made its way around to Gavin’s front, and he experimentally unbuttoned his jacket.

“You’re so annoying and obnoxious.” Michael continued, only now his hand gradually travelled down to his pants. He pulled out the neatly tucked in shirt. “You’re rude,” Button. “Selfish,” Zip. “And just fucking unbearable.” Michael traced his finger along the waistband of Gavin’s underwear, and finally got a reaction. It was an unintelligible sound, but a reaction nonetheless.

Michael snaked his hand between Gavin’s pants and boxers, and pressed his palm flush against his cock, feeling it through the fabric. Gavin took a sharp breath. “W-what are you doing?” Michael could hear a delicious little tremble in his voice.

“Taking what you’ve been offering me all this time.” Michael squeezed, making Gavin gasp. He whipped around so that they were face to face. He could see Gavin’s perfectly mastered “Cocky, Confident and In Control” mask breaking off in chunks with every motion of Michael’s hand, still down his pants, still only touching him through fabric. Gavin was getting harder by the second, his mouth agape, staring at Michael’s lips, waiting.

Michael had a feeling that none of this him having the upper hand business would have been possible if Gavin hadn’t been taken by surprise. So without hesitation, before Gavin could revert back to his assumed role, Michael went for his neck, and suddenly he could feel Gavin’s hands all over him, clawing at his suit and pulling him closer. Michael kissed the soft, vulnerable flesh and then bit, hard. Hard enough to leave a bruise, and he sucked on it, making damn sure he left his mark for days, reminding Gavin who was in charge in that particular moment.

Gavin’s hands were in Michael’s hair, frantic and restless, and he let them roam freely as he continued his assault of the beautifully tanned skin, a quick pulse beat-beat-beating beneath the surface. It tasted exactly how everyone’s skin tasted like, but Michael could swear it was different, because it was Gavin. Because the satisfaction of him crumbling under Michael’s touch was intoxicating. Because knowing that he can reduce him to a panting mess was delicious. Because, for once, being a step ahead of Gavin was worth having his own willpower shattered even further as Michael felt his talented fingers pulling at his hair, making Michael’s muscles contract… it was worth it even knowing that at night, when he can’t fall asleep, in his head he’ll replay these exact moments, the sensation of Gavin pulling him as close as humanly possible, the feel of his dick against Michael’s hand, the sound of his choked, uneven breaths and shocked little gasps. All of the times to come when he knew he’d hate himself were worth it because this was Michael’s sweet, sweet revenge.

Bite, suck, kiss; any minute now…

There was a knock on the door and Gavin jumped back just about as far as the room would let him. “On in five, Mr. Free!”

Gavin violently shook his head and zipped his pants back up, frantically trying to straighten his otherwise immaculate suit out. He hadn’t realized Michael had walked over to the table and was sipping on the forgotten half-made drink, so when Gavin turned his head to look at him, Michael had the biggest fucking grin on his face.

“Pretty decent cocktail.”

“You bloody bastard. I have to be on stage in a minute!” Gavin was blushing furiously, hard-on still evident in his pants.

“Well, you better go, wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting!”

“You’re horrible.”

Michael just sipped on his drink.

He had to admit, seeing Gavin go on stage, his trusty cello held firmly in front of him the whole time, flustered and blushing, legs tense and slightly trembling… it was one of the most satisfying things in the world. In that moment Michael could understand why Gavin always sought to make him uncomfortable and frustrated. It was hilarious.

And maybe that’s what their weird relationship was all about. Trying to one-up each other. True, Michael could think of healthier examples of kinda-sorta-friends-but-not-really-I-don’t-kow-it’s-hard-to-explain, but this… this was something else. And it worked. Kind of. For the most part. Probably?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't throw things


	8. Chapter 8

For the second half of the night, Gavin was the one who was sulking and Michael walked around, giddy as all hell, chatting happily to people he didn’t know.

“Alright, I’m done with my set, we can go home now.”

“But I’m having so much fun!” Michael giggled at his sullen expression.

“Well I’m going, you can take a cab back then.”

“Fine, fine.”

The ride back was silent. Michael was trying to contain his glee and Gavin just stared at the back of the driver’s seat, fuming.

They didn’t say a word to each other as they got out of the car, walked up to the complex, or started making their way up to their apartments.

Gavin was behind Michael as they walked up the stairs. “You know what?”

He turned around and suddenly there was a hand on his chest, pushing him, and his back met the wall. “What, Gavin?” Michael struggled to keep a level voice.

“You were very naughty tonight, Michael.”

And there it was. Gavin had had enough time to regain his sense of self. And at this point, with Gavin looking at him like that, like he wanted to devour Michael, like he wanted to rip him apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left… the decision was made: he was going to simply surrender. Let it happen. He’ll let Gavin have his way because it was painfully clear that not even Michael’s pride could keep him from taking that one last step towards defeat.

But if defeat meant that he’d managed to push Gavin enough to abandon his easy charm and gentle, persuasive touches to get what he wanted, that he’d stopped tiptoeing around and waiting for Michael to come to _him,_ to beg Gavin to take him…

_Insert the last round._

_Aim._

_Pull the trigger._

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

Maybe Michael wasn’t going to win this battle, but he sure as hell won the war.

Gavin grabbed him by the forearm and all but dragged him up to his apartment, taking big, fast steps. He unlocked the door and shoved him in, then immediately led him to the bedroom.

He pushed Michael up against the wall facing the bed, took a step back, looked him straight in the eyes and started slowly undressing. First Gavin took his jacket and tie off, and then leisurely unbuttoned his vest. Michael’s brain had trouble adjusting with the sudden change of pace, how the urgency just evaporated in a mere second, and he couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized once again by his fingers that were now working the buttons of his shirt. Gavin kicked his shoes off and was left standing shirtless, with only his pants on.

Wordlessly he took a step forward and started undressing Michael, who couldn’t make heads or tails of his behavior.

Gavin took everything but his boxers off. He stood close, so close that Michael could feel the warmth coming off his chest, and looked him straight in the eyes.

And then nothing. He didn’t touch him, didn’t say anything. He just stared.

“What now?” Michael dared to ask.

“Oooh, I don’t know.” Gavin idly ran a finger along Michael’s hipbone. “I haven’t decided yet.” He leaned in and tenderly kissed Michael’s neck, shoulder, collarbone, then left a row of feather-light kisses down to his nipple, where he paid his attentions with kittenish licks, all the while holding Michael firmly by his sides so that he couldn’t move. When Gavin felt him squirm, he smiled and circled his lips around the nipple, sucking on it slightly.

When he straightened up, it became clear to Michael that Gavin could do this all night, he was just waiting for a reaction.

_Oh, well, fuck it._

Gavin knew, just as well as Michael did, that this time he wasn’t going to walk away.

So Michael went for it, he launched himself forward and for the first time actually _kissed_ him.

And it was mind-numbingly amazing.

Gavin’s hands were in his hair, fists clenching his curls, and all Michael could do was circle his arms around his waist and pull him closer, feeling his hot skin against himself as they kissed, all tongue and teeth and pent-up tension, the simple, fundamental act of breathing left only as an afterthought.

Michael felt Gavin’s hand make its way down his side, now grabbing his thigh, and before he knew it, Gavin lifted him up and pressed him against the wall. Michael tightly wrapped his legs around him, feeling his sharp hipbones against his inner thighs.

Gavin bit his lower lip, then moved on to his jaw, down to his neck, and already Michael could feel his conscious thoughts slipping away, replaced by lights and colors and abstract explosions his mind couldn’t translate from the overwhelming sensations of Gavin sinking his teeth into his sensitive skin, of his nails digging into his behind, of the way both of their breaths hitched when Gavin suddenly thrust his hips forward and the delicious friction was like static electricity in the pit of his stomach.

It was getting too hard to keep Michael against the wall, so Gavin held him close, carried him to the bed and all but threw him down. He unbuckled his belt and stripped out of his pants, never breaking eye contact.

He straddled Michael and pinned his arms behind his head with one hand.

“I take it you’ve decided what you’re gonna do.”

“Mhmmm.” Gavin leaned in and nibbled on his ear. “I’ll…” he grinded against Michael, making him let out a little yelp of surprise. “I’ll make you…” murmured, tracing his hand down between their bodies, down to Michael’s crotch. “…come _so hard_ ,” Gavin started making little circular motions with his palm, pleased that he’s already rock-hard. “and I’ll make you beg for it.”

He pulled both of their underwear off and finally, _finally_ there was nothing between them. Michael sat up and Gavin allowed him, sharing another breathless kiss as they both yearned for more contact.

It didn’t take long for Gavin to push him back into the sheets, a firm hand on his chest, wordlessly commanding him not to move.

He pushed Michael’s thighs apart and he saw Gavin lowering himself down, finding a more comfortable position, and he took Michael’s cock in his hand, pumped a few times and leisurely licked it base to tip, circling his lips over the head and sucking, just a little bit.

Gradually Gavin took more and more of him into his mouth, until Michael involuntarily bucked his hips up, and then the beautiful sensation of his hot, wet lips was gone altogether.

“Mmmm, impatient…” Gavin hummed as he turned instead to kiss Michael’s inner thigh.

Michael struggled to get him back up to kiss him again and again and at that particular moment he thought that he could do it endlessly. His whole personality was wiped by Gavin’s talented lips and left him fantasizing about unspeakable things, like having him close at all times so Michael could just kiss him whenever he wanted because he couldn’t think of anything that felt better than swallowing the magnificent little sounds he was making or the delicious burn of Gavin’s light stubble against his skin. However the rest of his body had other ideas.

He tried to move things along by circling his hand around Gavin’s cock, working him in all the ways he himself loved, but Gavin was having none of it and swatted his hand away not half a minute later. Instead, he slowly tip-toed his fingers up Michael’s chest and to his mouth and lightly tapped on his lips. Michael opened his mouth and let them in.

“Suck.” Gavin commanded, and Michael did so without question, anticipating what came next.

Once he was satisfied with how wet his fingers were, Gavin replaced them with his mouth, kissing as his hand moved between their bodies and down to tease Michael’s entrance. He didn’t wait at all and quickly inserted the tip of his finger, inhaling the yelp Michael let out between their lips. A rush of panic coursed through him, the slight discomfort making him involuntarily tense up.

“Hush, love.” Gavin soothed as he reassumed his position between Michael’s legs. “I know what I’m doing.”

And that he did. Gavin took his time with preparing him, making it a point not to neglect Michael’s cock as he worked him over with his finger, even taking a tiny break to roll over so he could reach into his bedside table and take out a bottle of lube (and a condom for later) when he saw that only spit wasn’t cutting it.

Michael realized that he was right those times when he saw Gavin play the cello and secretly wondered if his fingers were as great at this as dancing over the strings. Turns out: better, even. He could barely form thoughts as Gavin stretched him for what seemed like hours, making Michael open and wanting more, wanting everything he could get. At three fingers he was already sweating, the increasingly pleasurable sensations making his heart beat faster and faster.

“I’m ready, I’m ready.” Michael heard himself panting. It wasn’t preparation anymore, no, at this point it was purely teasing.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, come on.”

“What _exactly_ do you want me to do?” Gavin asked, and for a minute there Michael had thought that his very thorough and careful preparation was proof that he wasn’t a sadist, but he quickly realized that it wasn’t inflicting physical pain that he was after, no. He had a thing for mind games, for having power over someone, and therein lay his all-consuming cruelty. Gavin wasn’t so much after a simple orgasm as he was after control.

_What-the-fuck-ever._

_Have it, I don’t even care anymore._

“Fuck me.”

Gavin gave him a pleased little smile and sat back. He tore open the packet that had been carelessly thrown on the bed, rolled the condom on and slicked himself up with a generous amount of lube. He positioned himself, taking both of Michael’s legs and placing them on his own shoulders. Gavin leaned in with his hands on either side of Michael’s torso and looked him straight in the eyes with a gaze that was a mixture of savage self-satisfaction and vehement lust, but even though Michael’s vision was clouded, he could still see a soft edge in his eyes, something like adoration or just simple, undiluted happiness. He couldn’t understand it, that little spark in the darkness of his stare, and he didn’t try to.

Instead he concentrated on the delicious burn of Gavin entering him, too slow and too fast at the same time. Gavin lightly ran a hand across Michael’s body, anywhere he could reach, gently trying to make his muscles relax as they reacted at the intrusion.

As stretched as Michael thought he was, nothing could have prepared him for this. In the past Michael had had a number of encounters, as he’d called them. And even with guys of frankly average size he had felt full to the brim, so now he had to make an effort not to squirm because talented fingers and a sexy British accent weren’t the only things Gavin was gifted with.

But he took it slow, moving in a little bit, then stopping and kissing him anywhere he could reach, giving Michael time to adjust. When he was finally completely in, Gavin’s careful, methodical exterior cracked and his head fell between his shoulders. “You’re so bloody tight, Michael.” He panted.

Gavin took a few breaths to collect himself and went on, gradually pulling himself out and pushing back in, until he saw that Michael had gotten used to it and relaxed, eyes closed, concentrating on the feeling.

He picked up the pace and relished in the sounds he was eliciting from Michael, getting lost in the act, but keeping it together enough to let one of Michael’s legs fall on the bed, and then switching every so often so that he wouldn’t get cramps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Michael howled, every thrust more forceful than the previous. He was vaguely aware of the fact that his nails were digging into Gavin’s back but for the life of him he couldn’t do anything about it, his ability to control his own body having completely evaporated in the smoldering heat between them.

But Gavin didn’t slow down, he kept on hammering into him, somehow finding the exact right angle that made Michael choke on his own screams. It was like tiny explosions in the pit of his stomach, radiating outwards, up his torso and through his throat, escaping from every pore of his body and making goose bumps shimmer across his skin.

Somewhere in the chaos Gavin shifted his position so that he could place his hand on Michael’s cock, pumping it to the maddening rhythm, and before long he saw that Michael was close, so Gavin gripped his dick tight at the base and stopped abruptly, making his eyes pop open and nostrils flare. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?! Don’t stop!”

“Beg for it.” Gavin growled, looming over him, and he shouldn’t have looked that menacing with his flushed cheeks and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he managed it somehow; he looked scary and demanding and Michael was hopelessly under his control, so he didn’t even think as the words tumbled out of his mouth, pathetic, defeated and needy.

“Please, please, just—fucking, I’m _begging_ you, _please_ make me come.”

Gavin laughed, not from amusement but pure satisfaction, and thrust into him, harder than ever, picking the pace back up and pumping his cock to the rhythm, and it was mere seconds before Michael felt all of his muscles contract and he came, harder than he ever had in his whole life, the sensation so overwhelmingly intense he almost wanted to escape it, trembling and out of his mind with pleasure, and Gavin just kept ramming into him relentlessly, not giving him even a second to catch his breath, until Michael felt the muscles under his fingers tense, heard a loud groan above him and then, suddenly, all movement stopped.

Breathing was a conscious effort as Gavin removed himself from Michael and fell down on the bed next to him, leisurely rolling off the condom and throwing it in the little bin Michael hadn’t noticed he had beside the bed.

“Holy fucking _hell_.” Michael gathered the energy to comment.

“Thank you.”

“You smug asshole.”

Gavin just laughed.

“I can’t move.” Michael said, and it was true. His whole being was reduced to mush.

“Good thing you don’t have to.” Gavin rolled over and kissed him sweetly on the cheek, and Michael simply couldn’t find the will to try and make sense of everything. He closed his eyes and within minutes felt himself drift off.

x x x

Michael came into work late on Monday, having _somehow_ stayed over at Gavin’s for the whole damn weekend.

(“I’m going, I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I’ll let you.” Gavin said with a smirk, holding onto his waist.

“Fuck off, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh, on the contrary…”)

Within minutes of him sitting down at his desk, Barbara and Kara tumbled into the office, holding a laptop, both looking like they’d just heard the best news ever. Geoff turned around in his chair, confused. “What’s up?”

Kara piped up. “So I was reading this gossip blog, and there was this charity event on Friday, and I was looking through the photos…”

_Oh FUCK NO. GOD FUCKING DAMNIT. NO NO NO NO NO!_

Barbara took the laptop, cleared her throat and started reading.

“Renowned cellist Gavin Free seen here entering the venue, sharing an intimate moment with Michael Jones, employee at Internet Company Rooster Teeth.”

 Michael had his head on his desk when he heard a collective “What?!” and everyone crowded around Barbara, then a few seconds later the whole office erupted into thunderous laughter.

“ _So_ —“ Ray started, but immediately got interrupted.

“No. Shut up.” Michael stood up and glanced over at the picture, and _of course_ they used the one where he was leaning in and whispering to Gavin, _while holding hands_. Little did they know, Michael was telling him how much he fucking hated his guts.

And goddamn if he didn’t hate Gavin fucking Free more than ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND cut. 
> 
> Thank you SO much for everyone who read this, for all of your kind words and encouragement. You make me happy to be part of this fandom. Every time I see that I have a new comment I squeal with joy, no joke!
> 
> But no seriously if you're reading this that means you endured seven chapters worth of "Oh my fucking GOD, just fuck already!" and you're a true champ. I hope you're not disappointed with this story and with the climax (hehe. hehehehe. yeah, I went there.) 
> 
> Tell me what you thought! Yell at me, if you want, if you think I fucked up the end there, I can take it. Or ask me stuff if something was unclear. 
> 
> Kisses xx


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